


Drunk On Rosewater

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: A collection of side shots and random moments from the 'Choking On Their Halos' universe. Probably unrelated and with zero posting regularity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Musings on Bukowski. 
> 
> Unbetad. 
> 
> The main story, 'Choking On Their Halos'is for the amazing Flames_And_Jade 
> 
> These asides are for SnitchesAndTalkers cause reasons if respect and adoration.

Vegas was fucking strange. Granted, that was not exactly a new realization, it was almost disturbingly obvious from the moment you set foot on the strip, but it still just occurred to me at random moments. Time just didn’t exist anymore, not really. The goddamn city was always alive, whether it was nine at night or four o’clock in the fucking morning. Everything was open, lights sparkling and people seemed to be everywhere. It was a little bit disturbing at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly. I had always been something of a night owl and my first few weeks I had just kind of… lurked in the shadows. Baggy jeans, a hoodie and beat up Chucks were my uniform of choice and I probably looked more like a twelve year old boy than a grown ass woman. That’s okay though, I loved the anonymity that it gave me. With enough caffeine I could sit all night, although I was far from still and just… watch. 

The mix of people was staggering ranging from people on cloud nine to those who you just knew had hit rock bottom. There was no clear delineation. That usual ‘haves and have nots’ boundary was seemingly non-existent here and the interplay of the classes was fucking fascinating. It wasn’t until someone dropped spare change in my coffee cup that I gave up my little hobby and find something resembling a real job. And then I became a stripper and that was just another, although slightly different, group to focus my bizarre attentions on.

Strip club time wasn’t the same as real world time. It wasn’t even the same as regular Vegas time. Things moved slower beyond the dimmed windows; the dark lighting was disorienting at first, but it eventually became something of a comfort, like a twisted, cold version of a womb in a Tim Burton flick. Things were so exaggerated that they were almost a caricature of themselves. Hell, there were times I would catch a glimpse of myself at work and the only way I could recognize myself was because of my hair. It was surreal. 

Minutes dragged on like hours, time measured almost intrinsically in three minute songs; each one fading into the last, and mental math although that started to fade a bit after the first few months. ‘how many dances till I make house fee? Five more lap dances and I have rent set. Two more visits from a reg and that down payment on a new car was set.’ People don’t give strippers nearly enough credit. Aside from the physical aspects of the job which were demanding as fuck, that shit could, and did, take a serious mental toll. 

Not counting the amount of money bestowed upon us, there was a constant finagling in the balance of power. Then again, that was kind of my stock in trade; I leveraged my maybe with another woman’s no. There were some men, though, that imbued strippers with WAY too much power. Seriously, if you are willing to pay a woman you don’t know several hundred bucks to knee you in the balls and call you names; you were probably better off with a psychiatrist or Domme. A pair of lacy underwear and purchased false affection is NOT a substitute for a doctorate or proper training. The thought had me shuddering and I returned my attention to the mess that was currently sprawled across my guest room. 

Bikinis, thongs, bras and dresses of all colors were thrown about in an almost elegant disarray, punctuated by shoes, jewelry and bottles of all shapes and sizes. All the things that made a girl girly, were scattered like some twisted Dali-esque painting rendered in neon and rhinestones and my bag lay empty. It gave me a headache. Giving up for now, I grabbed my bottle of sweet tea and shades, shoved my earbuds in my ears and cranked the volume way past the recommended settings. It was a beautiful day and the pool was calling my name.


	2. When You Wake Up The World Will Come Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapel in a hospital...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This finally happened. It is short, and probably a hot mess, but it has been lurking ion my mind for AGES. This is, quite obviously, a flashback chapter to a pretty fucking pivotal point in the entire Halos verse, as it were. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make the world go around, seriously. 
> 
> Not betad because I do what I want. 
> 
> Dedicated to the amazing SnitchesAndTalkers because she deserves the goddamn world. You inspire me daily, my friend. I bow down. 
> 
> Thanks and love go out to Laudanum_Cafe for just being the best and chatting everything felines and memes with me. Thank you, Sweetie Darling. 
> 
> Aural Accompaniment: 'Lullabye' by Fall Out Boy. Obviously.

I hated hospitals, everything about them; the artificially cold air, the weirdly shiny floors, that horrible antiseptic smell; all of it. But even more than that I think, was the feeling that always seemed to be lingering. It was pervasive, almost palpable; loss, despair and illness. Hospitals were, very rarely anyway, places of joy. I had spent enough hours sitting in emergency rooms with pete at insane hours to have had more than my share of experience with them, more often than not because he did something amazingly fucking stupid. It was astounding he never did any serious damage. The day he jumped off the damn roof with a patio umbrella was pretty close though. Keeping Pete Wentz company on regular day was an experience; when he was doped to the gills on painkillers, he was nearly insufferable. But he was my Pete, so that was that. 

There had never, for whatever reason I could possibly think of, been a reason for me to have been in a hospital chapel. It was different than I had expected, and yet exactly the same. There was a stained glass window in shades of bright red, orange and yellow, and small wooden pews on either side of a small aisle and what looked almost like a well crafted lectern sitting up two shallow steps. The thing that was most striking, strangely, was the lack of religion; there were no crosses anywhere, no pained looking half naked met dripping blood, no angels, nothing but a weird sense of calm and a bizarre pinkish carpet. I had never felt more out of place in my life, and that was saying a lot for a chubby band kid. 

“Trick. Rickster. Yo where’d you go, dude?” Pete, on the other hand, was draped over a pew like he was posing for some avant garde spread in Hot Topic quarterly or something, all painted on girl jeans, a t-shirt worthy of a tween girl’s closet, stupid, ill fitting icelandic sneakers and more eyeliner than the entirety of The Runaways. Somehow, the asshole made it work. 

“I was just thinking. You sure Joe was right about this? I’m pretty sure breaking his foot because he was so high he fell out his second story window may negate his observational powers.” I was droll, a vain attempt at hiding my nerves and kept my head down, hiding below the brim of my hat as much as possible, but Pete knew me far too well. Pushing up from his most likely blasphemous pose, Pete crawled over the strange colored carpet and wedged himself between my knees, forcing me to meet his eyes, far more serious than the liner and flat ironed bangs would lead anyone to believe. 

“Joe may have his moments but has he ever been wrong about something important? I mean really important.” As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Pete had a point. Joe may have been perpetually stoned for at least seventy percent of his waking hours, but his vision was better than mine was and he had an uncanny ability to remember faces. 

“No. We should… do you know where we are going? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea what if Rober-” I was stopped by a hand clamping over my mouth and I narrowed my eyes at Pete, licking his palm just fucking because. 

“I know where it is, don’t worry. Unlike you, I actually checked the directory in the damn lobby. And if Bob and Mary ARE there, I will take care of them. I’ve got you on this Patrick, I promise.” The sincerity in Pete’s voice was something that very few people ever got to hear, and I knew without a doubt that I could trust him on this. “Come on, there is someone you need to see.” I wasn’t given a chance to argue before Pete was on his feet and yanking me up behind him, very nearly dislocating my goddamn shoulder while he was at it. 

 

There was a certain sound that Chucks made on highly polished linoleum that set my teeth on edge and that sound was echoing off of the tastefully painted sage walls. Pete was ahead of me, looking around the corner and wearing a full length puffy coat that he bought who the fuck knows where and stashed in the ridiculous soccer duffle bag that he had carried with him. Why he felt he needed a disguise was beyond me, but questioning pete Wentz’s motives only led to confusion, I had found that out over a decade ago. 

“Fuck me running.” Apparently whatever Pete saw around the corner was something he didn’t like and, given where we were, that something was pretty fucking specific. Dropping his bag to the floor, he rummaged in it, pulling out a truly appalling hat that looked like it had been run over by a Mack truck and pushing on a pair of sunglasses that made him look like nothing so much as Miss Havisham by way of a very fluffy bug. “Give me a minute.” Smacking a disgustingly wet kiss against my cheek, I caught sight of his blinding grin before he took off running, his sneakers loud on the floor. But not, however, louder than his voice as he very nearly scream sang ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ at the top of his lungs. He was insane and I loved him for it. 

Both the singing and the squeaking, now accompanied by the rubber of professional shoes and the click of high heels, were quickly fading as, I could only assume, Pete turned a corner, leading some poor staff on a chase. I kept my gaze on my watch and, when a minute had passed, peeked around the corner to find a blissfully empty hallway. Hustling as fast as I could without looking like I was not supposed to be there because, let’s be honest, I fucking wasn’t, I finally came to a stop in front of the large window that made up most of the front wall of the nursery. 

It was cheerful and not immensely bright, the rows of strange baby cribs holding tightly swaddled, pink and blue capped, infants, all in various states of crying or sleeping it would seem. There were name cards on the end of all of the cribs but two, although I didn’t need one to find the infant I was looking for. 

Pale skin, a light pink hat that matched the blush on her cheeks and blue eyes that barely blinked open for the briefest of moments; she was perfect. She was, despite what her mother and her dickwad family had said, mine. I could see it, somehow in the round face, although that may have just been my imagination. 

It could have been minutes or hours that I stood there, committing every bit of the impossibly tiny girl to memory. I didn’t know when I would see her again, or even if I would. If this was the one and only time, I was determined to make it count. 

“Dude, we gotta go.” Pete appeared out of nowhere, foolish disguise discarded and yanked on my arm, tugging me both out of my reverie and off my feet as I stumbled behind him, taking a last look back at the sleeping infant that was so fucking far away before taking off at a run behind Pete, through twisting corridors, down flights of stairs and finally out into the bitter, unforgiving cold of the Chicago winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me at AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet on Tumblr. We can chat, I promise I am not super scary.


	3. I'd Give It All To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a peek into Patrick's world. Can I explain it? No, not really. For context, this foots between chapters eleven and twelve of Halos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as always. 
> 
> Halos is for the gorgeous Flames_And_Jade. 
> 
> This collection of ridiculous moments if for SnitchesAndTalkers. 
> 
> I love them both like whoa. 
> 
> Aural Satisfaction: Heaven's Gate by Fall Out Boy
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

I was far from a rash man, quite the opposite actually. There were reasons for everything, all tightly measured and well-controlled: everything has its place and purpose. The tight rein that I tended to keep on the personal side of my life reflected very much in the organized and methodical professional aspect. The two were separate but very much equal, a delicate balance that had only been tipped once in the last decade and Pete was absolutely the exception to nearly every rule; he always had been. Until now. Charleigh was an anomaly, and a beautiful one, she had been since the moment I saw her stumble, quite literally, into Saporta’s lap. Despite the time that had passed, that night was clear as crystal. She was exquisite, although that wasn’t at all surprising. Flame was, after all, a very upscale club, membership only, and it tended to attract a certain class of clientele. I watched her from a tucked away booth, shrouded in shadows, despite how cliche it was. Sometimes there was something to be said for exactly that. Pete was settled beside me, as was his wont, narrating the events that were unfolding across the room with his usual wit. 

Even Pete’s unbridled energy couldn’t pull my attention from this girl, which was saying something because he could be absolutely captivating when he wanted to be. 

I had been in this life long enough to be able to very quickly recognize that particular, down the rabbit hole expression that graced the faces of first-times. There was a very specific mixture of awe, curiosity and just a touch of fear that seemed to be a beacon for those of us who were less discerning than me and Pete. 

This girl was something special, I could tell even as she seemed to stumble, wide-eyed and very much out of her element. She was all golden hair, and pale skin, almost glowing in the low light. 

“I think that I saw Mr. Iero and Gee heading down the hall, you know they are always worth watching when they…. oh. Well then.” Pete’s speech trailed off as he followed my gaze and more than a bit of humor crept into his voice, and no small amount of amusement. “Find something interesting, Trick?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, shooting a glare that held little to no heat, Pete knew me far too well.

“Maybe.” The answer in itself was loaded with meaning, and Pete knew it, his eyes widening just slightly before they returned to the girl as she sat down. 

“Well, you may want to consider that answer pretty quickly, cause your little angel just sat down with someone else.” There was a bit of hesitance to Pete’s voice as he spoke and as I shifted slightly in the luxurious booth, just enough to change my point of view, I couldn’t help but agree with his assessment. The taller man was just as hidden in the shadows as Pete and I were, although they suited him a bit more, especially if so knew him as well as I thought I did.

“He isn’t right for her, just wait and see.”

Pete, far wiser than most people gave him credit for, didn’t say a word, but I could see his smirk as he took a sip of his Manhattan and his eyes sparkled in the flashing lights. 

“Whatever you say, Patrick. Whatever you say.”

I was right, although it took months to realize that, and I can admit very easily that I was not always pleasant when Charleigh would leave after a session or even worse when she disappeared for so long. Seeing her return, especially as out of the blue as it was, both threw me off guard and instilled in me a confidence that had been slow blooming and nearly forgotten. I was discerning, that was not a fact that I hid from anyone ever, in any facet of my life, and to be proven right, even with the time that had passed, was something I took great pride in. Not, of course, that I was happy to see her cry. That part, despite the beauty that was almost inherent in her submission, and it was beautiful, had me pause, each stifled sob a testament to a hurt that went far beyond the physical. 

The strength and control that Charleigh possessed were almost astounding, although I had no doubt that there was a spine of steel to go along with her angelic face. I hadn’t seen much of her before she finally showed back up, not really, but the brief glimpses into scenes with the man who trained her were more than enough of a testament to how far she had come in what was, quite essentially, a very short period of time. Although it was not my preferred method, starting varsity level kink a with beginning submissive was risky, to say the least, but everything I had witnessed and continued to, proved me wrong, in the best of ways. I would never say so, however, least of all to Pete, simply because he was a smug bastard at times, and would never let me forget it. Then again, he was also perceptive as hell, and if the concern that flashed over his features as he leaned against the doorway amidst the not exactly small crowd that had formed and watched as Charleigh fell to pieces in my lap was any indication, I wouldn’t have to say it, he just knew. 

I caught his eyes for the merest of moments, the usual bright amber darkened with both the lights and a professionalism that I had, at one point, put far past him, and gave the smallest of nods even as I kept muttering to Charleigh. My voice was soft, the words meant for her and her alone, although I couldn't care less if the entire club heard as long as Charleigh understood. As her sobs quieted and her breathing slowed, I kept speaking, repeating the same words over and over, almost like a mantra, if I were one to fall into that camp, my lips at her ear and my fingers gently carding through her hair.

“You’re such a good girl. You did so well for me. I’ve got you, Angel. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me at AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet on Tumblr, I love to talk.


End file.
